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<title>A Novel Solution by ZaffreAfferDark (ZaffreFennec)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860938">A Novel Solution</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaffreFennec/pseuds/ZaffreAfferDark'>ZaffreAfferDark (ZaffreFennec)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hollow Knight (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Horror, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Skull Fucking, Voyeurism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:26:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860938</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaffreFennec/pseuds/ZaffreAfferDark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Knight happens to find Quirrel in a compromising position in the City of Tears, but it might just be what they were both looking for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Knight/Quirrel (Hollow Knight)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Novel Solution</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gods, what an exquisite view.  High up at this angle, Quirrel could see the famed city in impeccable clarity, from the masterwork architecture to the flowing canals to the winding streets yet patrolled by unwaking guards.  While no doubt a fearsome terrain to cross, from the vantage of the ornate, rain-streaked window several stories above the fray, it was positively picturesque. He sat down on the wrought-iron bench to rest his legs from the hours spent adventuring and took luxury in idling, soaking in the scenery.</p><p>With the only sounds echoing through the airy hallways being the distant footsteps of the city's thralls and the patter of the neverending rain, Quirrel relaxed his posture and sighed in contentment in the soothing ambiance.  Hallownest was a chaotic thrill to be mired in, but these moments of respite were prime and much-needed contrast.  Always on edge, watching his back at every turn, keeping his nail always at the ready, it certainly took the antlion's share of his energy. Who could fault a bug for wanting a moment's peace from all that?  And on this little bench, peace was precisely what he found.  </p><p>In the lull, he found himself coming into a particular mood, one that in the past while he hadn't really attended to.  Rather odd that it decided to surface now, but he supposed the matter had been ignored long enough.  He looked over his shoulder, giving the room a careful scan, finding it empty as he knew it'd be.  Settling further into the bench, he rested his hand on his lap as he watched the rain rivulet down the glass, letting the vigilance of his prior trek wash away.  He rubbed himself evenly at that spot between his legs, slow and easy and mindful of the sensations, the languid touch blending the peace of his surroundings with the pleasure he'd bring himself.  Pushing back a segment of his shell, he drew his readying member forth from its protection.</p><p>It really had been a while, Quirrel mused as his length stiffened and twitched from even that mild attention.  He fingers toyed across the head and trailed precum in their wake, causing him to stifle a moan; how sensitive he was already.  Grasping his maleness around its shaft, he began to pump in rhythmic form, sighing as he indulged himself, eyes fluttering closed.  Ahhh, that was it, just like that, just how he needed it.  His breaths quickened as the sensations spread through him with every pulse of his heart.</p><p>Despite his indulgence, a niggling apprehension in the back of his mind kept urging him to finish quickly. This was a public place, an open and unobscured upper terrace that anyone could enter, or even see into from the window if they chanced to look.  His rational mind countered that all he'd met on his way in were husks who hadn't the mind to notice his behavior much less care, and yet… His grip tightened at the very same notion, a shiver of excitement running through him.  Filthy pervert, touching yourself out in the open like this.  Anyone could see you, they might even be watching you right now.  They'd see you stroking yourself, trying to stay quiet in this big, echoing room, trying to stay discreet when you know there's no way to hide what you're doing.  They'd know that you think you might be watched, and they'd see plainly just how titillated you are at the thought.  Quirrel clenched his jaw to keep his voice down. These fantasies, they were bringing him so very close to the edge…</p><p>*KH-PAUNNNG!* </p><p>The gong of metal ringing against metal made Quirrel nearly jump out of his own hide. Head whipping back and forth to find the disruption, his panic-addled vision floundered to register the cause.  There, emerging from a vacant lift-shaft, nail returning from the follow-through of striking the still resonating railing, was that short wanderer he'd kept crossing paths with.  Their big dark eyes, peering from a porcelain-shelled and arc-horned head, were locked to his position and witnessing fully the catastrophe Quirrel had made himself.  A funny thing it was, how the world felt very far away when one was wholly drowned in humiliation.</p><p>"Um, uh...hello…" he squeaked, "Didn't, didn't think anyone else was around…" The silence hung in the air like knives suspended by string, just waiting to snap and come down on his head.  All the while, the little interloper's gaze didn't waver, expression unreadable, and making it more than a little difficult to make himself decent again without openly grabbing his parts in front of them.  Was it better or worse that they reacted so neutrally?  Disgust, shock, even laughter would have made sense, but they just stood there, watching.  Were they waiting for him to do something? Say something?  What did they want?  Now that the blunt shock of being caught was wearing off, Quirrel felt his feelings of embarrassment coalesce into something rather cross. "I thought I was alone, alright?!"</p><p>As soon as he said it, he felt a bit bad.  They weren't the one at fault here, now were they?  Their next actions, however, set Quirrel's blood boiling.  Arm raised, hand held at chest height, their loosely grasped fist was moved up and down in a blatant mimicry of his prior sins.  "Don't you mock me!" Quirrel shrieked, "Make those gestures at yourself, why don't you? The hell are you implying anyways? If you're judging my technique, consider yourself cordially invited to demonstrate for me," Delivering his own rude gesture for punctuation, Quirrel finally turned away.  Gods, just, fuck everything, all of it.  Could his pride ever recover from this debacle?  Fumbling and fuming, he tried his damnedest to sort himself out through seeing red.</p><p>Behind him he heard footsteps, yet they didn't sound quite right for one moving away. Dare he glance back?  If that bastard was about to-- "Gah!" Quirrel yelped, finding the wanderer right at his side, not hardly a few inches away.  His hand involuntarily lept towards his nail--his actual weapon this time--in fright of this bizarre confrontation, but just as he was debating whether to strike them away, they knelt down onto the floor.  Crawling on hands and knees, they positioned themself at his feet, sitting like a pupil before their master and gazing up in anticipation, eagerly awaiting, well, something, evidently.  Being not nearly as threatened by this new position they took, Quirrel tentatively decided against pursuing combat, regarding them still with a heavy dose of apprehension.  "What are you playing at?" </p><p>Again they raised their hand and mimed the act, then pointed at him, then returned to waiting ever so patiently.  Quirrel reeled.  It might have even been possible to hear all the cogs in his head grinding to a halt in that very moment.  "Really???" he blurted.  Without a mote of hesitation, they nodded with gusto. "Really?" he re-inquired, incredulous and skeptical and all around baffled.  Another nod.  Well…hmm…so… What ought he do now? Ought he ask a third time, just to be truly certain?  Actually, that might make them annoyed, better not.  So, so then now, that meant that, now he had an audience, a partner, a lover maybe? Was that the truth of it? How this now was? Was this real?</p><p>"Really?" Quirrel asked, all defensiveness pushed aside to ask his friend in earnest.  Without a word, they inched closer and rested their head at his knee, petting his leg as they gazed up at him.  Their face, usually set with stony determination, wore a distinctly coquettish look, those big dark eyes of theirs holding such yearning that it finally broke clean through Quirrel's remaining reservations.  How could he say no to a face like that?  </p><p>He leaned back, taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves.  A voyeur was what he wanted after all, wasn't it?  Trying not to let his new audience unnerve him, he took himself in hand once again, though the prior panic did make it so he had to start from the beginning.  Perhaps that meant he wasn't completely looney, Quirrel thought as he tugged at his piece.  Just breathe, just be in the moment, try not to dwell on the weirdness of this whole event. He could rise to the opportunity, couldn't he? Well, maybe, he was having a bit of trouble 'rising' right this second. Just breathe.  Mnngh, almost there, but damn if it wasn't hard to find his rhythm again. Was this the performance they were expecting? He glanced down at his partner.  Hah, what a face! They were positively enchanted by the motions he underwent, head ever so slightly bobbing up and down along with the path of his hand, leaning in just a little bit closer, closer, closer to the performance.  Quirrel felt his pride swell, among other things, at the attention.  "Enjoying the show?" he chuckled through huffs, "Why don't you lend a hand?"</p><p>They scooched right up between his thighs at the invitation and sized Quirrel up.  Now at such a close position, they seemed a bit unsure of what to do next, their hands hovering just shy of touching his body.  A short reach forward and both hands wrapped around his nail, giving a tentative squeeze before beginning their slide up and down. Quirrel hummed in approval.  It was plain that his friend was unpracticed; their motions were uneven and they grasped rather too lightly, but all the same it had an endearing effect too.  "Is it your first time doing this?" Quirrel probed.  Their shoulders hunched sheepishly as they nodded, avoiding looking in his eyes.  "I can hardly tell," he lied, smiling as they perked back up.  "Just a bit more firm...Ahh, good…" he coached, watching them as much as they were watching him.  Such a charming, comely bug, all zeal and resolve and candor, and working ever so diligently, too.  Truly immeasurable was the luck that had brought their paths to cross, this companion for whom he grew only ever the fonder. "You're doing so well," he breathed, fingers petting along their head.  "How about something more, though?" he teased, tilting their chin up to look at him. "Why don't you try using your mouth too with your hands?  You do have a mouth, don't you?"  </p><p>They grew reserved at the suggestion, darting their gaze down back to their hands as they continued to work, drawing their face closer to his nail in increments like they were trying to convince themselves to commit.  All the while they were absolutely scrutinizing his parts, eyeing up every vein and contour, studying like they were to be tested on its form later.  They slowed and took a deep breath, placing their hands against his lap as they once more aspirated deeply.  Perhaps, Quirrel worried, he'd prodded them too far.  "It was only a suggestion, my friend. Don't force yourself into--"</p><p>Their head surged forward, burying into his lap as Quirrel yelped and spasmed, his nail engulfed by something profoundly un-mouth-like. The feeling was indescribable, his entire length beset by a hundred tongues or tendrils or something swirling and rubbing against his flesh, slick and amorphous and slightly chill, a roiling mass fighting as if to expel an intrusion. Every nerve was galvanized in this bizarre and inescapable snare, obliterating any semblance of thought as euphoria possessed his faculties like a devil to a sinner, the shock stealing his very voice from his throat, unable to gasp or moan or scream or hardly even breathe.  Slowly, ever so slowly, his lover drew their head back, dragging the stimulation up his shaft as they went, the feeling so intense it caused stars to swim through his vision.  As they finally pulled back enough for him to see, Quirrel whimpered as he witnessed his cock impaled into his lover's eye socket.</p><p>This can't be happening, it's not possible, Quirrel gawked in terror as thin black tentacles wriggled against his tip, toying at his meatus. It assailed right at his very most sensitive spot, and with a shuddering gasp he seized the bug's horns in a white-knuckle grip, though with his arms shaking as they were, he'd have equal control over their movement if his hands were tied behind him. Their head dipped again, pressing until his nail hilted against their face, tendrils wriggling away the whole journey down.  Up and down, up and down, again and again their head bobbed on his shaft, meandering pace leaving Quirrel to mewl and twitch in their aberrant grasp. Shouldn't he be horrified by this? Shouldn't he wrench them away and flee and excise this memory by any means possible?  As vehemently as he would have screamed yes before, he now silently begged with his whole soul that they not stop.</p><p>They kept going, head to base to head again, steady rhythm driving him ever more insane.  Deep inside him he could feel it, that building tension of nearing climax, but with the pace they were going it was just never quite enough.  Every time he felt himself getting close it slipped away into the unwavering pace of his lover, never speeding up or slowing down or giving him a second's rest, only to begin building anew.  Within him, desperation burgeoned.  Torturous pleasure, agonizing bliss; he squirmed in his seat as his stomach muscles coiled and legs tensed, testes full and aching to spill, to let his seed burst forth, hot and white and virile, and yet that moment refused to arrive.  If this went on any longer, he'd go wholly frothing mad; he needed to come, he needed this!</p><p>Quirrel leapt to his feet, gripping his lover's horns in renewed vice and slammed his hips against their face. Pants and grunts and sounds befitting an animal escaped his throat as he thrusted with feral abandon, slapping and sucking wetness mingling with his utterances to fill the room and echo around them.  Gods smite him if he hurt his friend, but he was just so close!  Faster, faster, the edge of no return approached at breakneck pace.</p><p>With a final sustained groan, he held their head flush as volleys of his release shot into their hole, tentacles thrashing around his twitching cock all the while. He held them tight for as long as he could, the sustained stimulation elevating his climax higher still until his knees shook and his vision swam, barely able to gasp in air to his lungs in his bliss. Truly unable to withstand any longer, his last ounce of strength shoved them away, coming separated with an arc of white and a squelching pop, where he  colapsed onto the bench below in heaving exhaustion. Quirrel's head lolled backwards and left him staring at the ornate ceiling as tremors still sparked through him in the afterglow.  </p><p>"Well...that was…" he started, still not having caught his breath just yet, "Was a novel solution, to say the least." He propped his head up, taking stock of the state he'd left his friend in.  Knocked onto their backside, white residue clung to their face as similar substance stained their stomach from their own climax.  Strangely, but thankfully, their eyesocket seemed no worse for wear.  The wanderer passed their hand across their face and wiped away most of Quirrel's fluid, staring at their palm where it still clung in a sticky glob. Then, as they brought their hand up to their face, he saw a little black tongue dart out of a sliver of a mouth that licked and lapped up his mess. "Wha…? You do have a mouth!" Quirrel sputtered, pointing in accusation. "So what was all that, then!?" Saying nothing, as per usual, the bug wiped their hands on their cloak and toddled over, taking a seat right next to Quirrel and cozying up before appearing to immediately nod off. He sighed in defeat, already knowing no answer would be forthcoming. "A little warning would've been nice, you know," he chided, wrapping his arm around their shoulder.  Now that the excitement had finished, his eyes drooped as he listened to the quietness, taking in the soft patter of rain on glass.  Well, he'd quite exerted himself, he thought, resting his chin on his chest, already beginning to drift away, perhaps now it wouldn't hurt to take a little rest.</p>
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